


something practical

by Phayanaro



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, I wanted to write something funny, didn't work out, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 14:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayanaro/pseuds/Phayanaro
Summary: Reader decides Bucky needs a haircut.But who would have known of what huge consequences such a little decision could be?





	something practical

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a challenge on tumblr: https://cordytriestowrite.tumblr.com/post/182320452680/rules-deadline-is-march-1st-but-im-also-really
> 
> It is my first time writing in English.  
> Please have fun reading this, I had a lot of fun writing it.

James does not look too convinced when you hold up a pair of scissors. In fact he seems desperate to find an excuse. _(He is.)_

 

For a moment you consider whether he would just slam his door shut. But instead, he asks: „Do you even know how to cut hair?”   
„Of course”, you reassure him, leaving out that your knowledge basically consists of the three YouTube tutorials you watched. _(There would have been no point in telling him anyway. He barely understands the concept of the internet.)_

 

A cornered expression appears on his handsome face and finally he sighs: „Okay, but let’s do it at your place. My hot water isn’t working.” _(Because my god, he really can’t let you in his apartment.)_

 

You start grinning and then lecturing him about how he should contact Mr. Daniels, the landlord, while both of you walk to your flat on the opposite of the corridor.   
He is as quiet as usual, so you talk for two as usual. About your day, your obnoxious coworker or if he thinks, you could sneak a cat in your flat without Mr. Daniels noticing. ( _He is sure you couldn’t.)_

 

But after you pushed him into your bathroom, he looks so strangely out of place, you stop talking. It’s not the first time you notice how attractive he is. Those piercing blue eyes, high cheekbones and a jaw you could cut yourself on. Maybe you will. _(And man, he really is a sucker for you. Even though he knows that it all will just end in heart break.)_

 

You break the silence, because you feel like he can see right in to your soul and you really do not need him to see just how much you are pining for him. „Come on now. We need to wash your hair first.”  
Surrendering, he slides to the floor in front of your bathtub and puts his head back. No one says a word while you turn on the water and test the temperature. It’s that moment you realize how intimate washing someones hair is. God, this was a stupid idea. _(He knew that from the first moment and still couldn’t resist)._

 

You are directing the water spray at his scalp. "Is the -", your voice has a pathetically hoarse sound and you start anew. "Is the water warm enough?" The tone of his voice is not much better when he answers: „Yes.”  
You, who is never at a loss for words, do not know how to speak anymore. So you just put down the shower head and grab your shampoo. _(Years later he will be in a grocery store, buying that exact shampoo.)_

 

„I will touch you now”, you announce as if that would somehow break the tension. It does not. You push your fingers in his thick brown hair, distributing the shampoo. You sigh and his shoulders slump. He closes his eyes while you massage his scalp. Maybe this is the first time you have ever seen him relax in any manner. _(He tries to not think about that this is the first tender touch he experiences in sixty years.)_

 

It takes a bit of willpower to stop shampooing his hair and start rinsing it. You wrap a towel around his head while you search for a stool for him to sit on. He looks ridiculous now. _(But he could honestly not care less.)_

 

You start detangling his hair in a concentrated silence and then ask him, what kind of hairstyle he has in mind. He shrugs, finally says: „Something practical.” You assess him for a while until he gets uncomfortable, or even more uncomfortable than he usually is. Given the fact that your abilities do not really give you a range of options, you just start to shorten his hair and try to give it a bit of form. _(He desperately tries to suppress the memories of his mother. How she is cutting his hair on a warm summer day in their kitchen while humming absently.)_

 

Finally you stand in front of him and you scrutinize your work. You bend forward to adjust one last strand on his forehead. Then you drive through his hair to fix it. His breath ghosts over your lips and you stop moving your hands in his hair. You look down, he looks up and your eyes meet. Your heart stops for a moment and then starts beating rapidly. _(He has to go. Now.)_

 

He swallows and there is an emotion in his eyes far too big for you to understand. He moves his lips towards yours and then hesitates. This is the moment before the one of no return and neither one of you turns around. In the end you cannot tell who moves first but your lips end on his. _(…)_

 

The scissors clatter to the ground. Your hands are now holding his face and his arms are wrapped around your hips. Your body is pressed against his broad chest and you can feel his heart beating incredibly fast.  
He is reluctant, gentle at first but then his demeanor changes. His teeth drag over your lower lip and you open your mouth.  
The kiss gets even more desperate. Like he needs this. Like he is a drowning man finally getting some air. _(And oh, how he had drowned.)_

 

Who would have thought that he was such a good kisser? A moan escapes your throat and he makes a strangled sound. He get’s up from the stool, his hands moving to your bum and he lifts you up as you weigh nothing. You wrap your legs around his hips and he places you on the sink.  
_(He wished he could have stayed in this moment forever.)_

 

He breaks the kiss and begins: „Sweetheart…” But then he trails off and stares at the mirror behind you. There is shame, there is pure horror in his eyes. It is as if he would see himself for the first time. _(And indeed he sees a reflection of a self long gone. Shattered on the ground of a Canyon.)_

 

You chose a short, straight hairstyle; a military cut. He withdraws from you, one step, two steps. He seems to not be able to look you in the eyes anymore. „I’m sorry…”, he rasps and then turns around, literally fleeing. _(Because that is all he can do nowadays.)_

 

He is gone next morning. The first weeks you keep this ridiculous hope up. That he will return, if you just wish enough for it. And how you wish…  
Two month later an elderly guy moves into his flat. It’s the only time you allow yourself to cry a bit. _(And he knows it was the right decision to walk away. The only decision. But fuck, it hurts.)_

 

You see him again years later. On TV. Next to Captain America and Iron Man. Fighting some strange Alien Invasion. And whoa, while all of that is a big revelation, you cannot help, but think that he really needs a haircut. _(Later, he takes a razor and cuts his hair millimeter short.)_


End file.
